Premonitions
by Almyra
Summary: A small vignette wherein Will and Elizabeth discuss the frustration of living normally after their great adventure with Captain Jack Sparrow.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own Will or Elizabeth, and I sure as heck couldn't own Jack, even if I wanted to. He wouldn't allow it.  
**AN:** This has been sitting in the backfile for quite some time, being originally the prelude to a longer story. Since it stands fairly well on its own, I thought I would polish it up and present it to y'all in honor of _Dead Man's Chest_ opening this Friday. The longer story may come along presently - or not…

* * *

"A storm is coming."

The calm, thoughtful tone in which the words were spoken made Elizabeth Swann turn her head sharply. "I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked, plying her fan vigorously. "How on earth would you know that?"

Her companion did not reply at once and continued gazing far out to sea, where the last light of the setting sun paved shining roads across the waves. Elizabeth huffed a bit to herself as she studied the young man sitting beside her. Truth be told, she found herself slightly perturbed with him, although she found it difficult to identify the cause of her agitation.

Certainly, aside from being the blacksmith's apprentice, William Turner was an entirely proper suitor. He was polite and unfailingly courteous; his attentions to her were always marked with complete consideration for her person. She knew he loved her, for he had always loved her, and she could see the light shining in his deep brown eyes when he looked at her. Whether it was the soft and entirely appropriate kisses he pressed to her hands in public or the breathless, passionate fervor with which his lips sought hers in private, his ministrations were suffused with gentleness. Not once had he attempted to claim rights that were not yet his, although Elizabeth had surprised a spark of yearning lurking in his expression on several occasions. The knowledge of his desire both startled and flattered her, but she could not help wishing that he would break from his propriety just once. She knew he was more than capable of acting from his heart – "rashly," Commodore Norrington would probably interject – but it seemed he had settled once more into his trademark decorum.

"_Once more, Miss Swann, as always…"_ The memory drifted quietly as she prepared to speak again, hoping to elicit a reply this time. "Will, I asked how you know a storm is coming?"

Her betrothed shifted in his seat on the stone parapet and reached over to clasp her free hand with his. "Elizabeth, my beloved," he said, smiling faintly, "I know because I can see the thunderheads building in your eyes. You are creating hurricane winds with your fan, and several stray bolts of lightning from your tense carriage have nearly scorched me." He touched her face with his callused fingers. "What is troubling you? I am here to listen."

Feeling rather embarrassed at being so transparent, Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Oh, Will," she began suddenly, letting her fan drop, "I am not certain how to begin… Or where… I cannot understand why I am even troubled!"

Will leaned closer and kissed her gently on the lips. "Hush, my dear one," he soothed, "Please speak freely. You are not bound by proper behavior while with me."

Elizabeth could not help laughing at his words, and the young man frowned slightly. "Perhaps therin lies the problem." she said, "_Everything_ is proper – so refined – so…utterly _dull_! Where has all the adventure gone? All the excitement? The danger, even – I might welcome danger if it would break this awful, stifling, polite, suffocating _boredom_!" Her voice rising slightly, she continued, "I imagined - rather foolishly it seems - that perhaps since the discovery of your heritage, your lineage, we might sail the oceans together, seeking honor, glory, and even a bit of treasure!"

The frown still creased Will's forehead as he was silent for a moment. He turned and looked out to sea once more, and Elizabeth followed his gaze. The sea sparkled golden, tinged at the edges with a warm crimson. Gulls wheeled lazily on the salty breeze, and Will inhaled deeply, closing his eyes suddenly. "I know, Elizabeth," he said finally, "I feel it also. At times it is a sore trial to continue my work in the smithy, when I know the sea is out there, waiting, calling to me. I know life has seemed dry and terribly uninteresting ever since Jack escaped to the _Pearl_. I feel it all here," he put his hand to his chest, "and I fight onward through it every day, every waking moment."

"Then let us leave Port Royal!" Elizabeth cried, springing to her feet, "We can stowaway on a merchant ship and go where the wind takes us! We can make our way to Tortuga and strike out from there! Perhaps Jack would even take us aboard the _Black Pearl_ if we could find him again! Surely he would need two more faithful hands before the mast, and you could take your father's place at his side. Oh, _Will_! Really _bad _eggs!"

The young blacksmith grinned at her enthusiasm and stood also, pulling her against him and kissing her fiercely for several long moments. "My, Miss Swann," he murmured when their lips parted, "Such exceedingly improper sentiments from the governor's own daughter!"

"Yes, is it not?" she returned, "Quite shocking indeed!" They kissed again, and Will turned with her to face the Caribbean, which was quickly fading from rich, reddish ochre to a darker shade of its customary and ever elusive cerulean as the sun slid below the horizon. His demeanor became serious and slightly saddened. "Elizabeth," he said, "I love you, so very much. You are my life and my soul, and I mean to care for you as best as I am able. My wish is for you to have everything and want for nothing, and therefore, I must make certain that I am able to provide for us."

He tipped her chin up gently and kissed both eyelids. "I am a blacksmith, Elizabeth. I still love my craft – the shaping and sculpting of metals. A pirate I may also be, and I certainly do not deny the blood running through my veins. Nor do I deny the temptation of freedom such a life would offer me – us." He paused, seeing her hazel eyes cloud over with frustration. "But smithing is what I was trained to do. It is what I do best, and unfortunately perhaps, at this point it is more financially stable than piracy."

The young woman pulled away from him, her full lips set in a pretty moué. "I thought you understood," she said disappointedly, "I thought you wanted an escape from all of this petty propriety, too."

Will sighed. "I _do_ understand," he said, "The desire to fly is like blood fever – burning constantly – never giving me peace. I sympathize with you fully, and I would like nothing better than to head for that horizon. Please, listen!"

He grasped her hand tightly. "I know you are angry with me over this, Elizabeth, but I will soon be responsible for you and our children someday, and God help me, I refuse to subject you or any of my progeny to the dangerous life of my father or the separation and anguish my mother experienced!"

Elizabeth met his earnest gaze with some surprise. She rarely heard him speak of his early days in England, and even in the initial days of their childhood friendship, he had only mentioned his mother's death and his aborted search for his "merchant" father in passing and with a young boy's stoicism. Her pout forgotten, she clung to his hand, feeling the strength in his grip and the rough calluses beneath her fingertips. She knew he meant what he said.

"We came through a fantastic adventure," he continued, "And we have changed. It is only normal we should consider our lives lacking interest," a slight smile, "after consorting with undead pirates and a certain Captain Jack Sparrow." She smiled back, and some of the tension in her neck and shoulders began to ease with his words. "But let me assure you, my beloved Elizabeth," here Will slid his arm around her corseted waist and kissed her forehead, "that even if life seems to be stifling us both, excitement and danger are never far from us. We will soon be joining our separate lives together into one. What greater adventure is there?"

Delighted laughter drifted from the high stone wall of the fort, and the sentries on watch shifted slightly and glanced at one another. Overhead, one by one, stars appeared, and night enveloped Port Royal.


End file.
